Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 281, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 November 1912 — HOW SAM PROPOSED [ARTICLE]

HOW SAM PROPOSED

Ended in Force of Arms, Compulsion, Extortion, All That, and Then Some.

By JOHN PHILIP ORTH.

Same Andrews was a bachelor of 40, one of the three carpenters in the village of Dover. Being a bachelor it was perfectly logical that he should keep bachelor’s hall. He had -imade his own bed and cooked his own lineals for ten years when things happened. In preparing his own dinner one Klay the bachelor burned the meat, forgot to put the coffee in the pot with . the water, and fried the potatoes until the odor could be scented across the street. Then he broke a platter, kicked the cat and went out on the back and said to himself: “Dog gone it, but I’m a fool!”,^ Mrs. Brown, wife of his nearest neighbor, was on her back steps and saw and heard him and answered: “Of course you are!’ "I ought to have a wife.” ! “Everybody knows that.” \ “I won’t stand it another month!” I “Don’t!” “But where in Jericho am I going to iget one?” “That’s it—where?” She passed into her house and was gone ten minutes, while the bachelor sat and stared at the beet-tops in his garden and wondered how a feller managftri to kick himself when he felt he needed kicking. Then she reappeared to say: “Oh, Sam, come to the fence.” A breast-high fence divided the lots, and the two were soon leaning over it. “Well?” queried the carpenter in a sulky voice. “You are a single faan.” “Don’t I know that?” “You want a wife.” “I do. I’m gosh-hanged tired of this housework.” “Say, Sam, I can get you a wife in a day.” “I —I don’t believe it. Who is she?” “The widow Martin.” “Why—why,” stammered the bachelor as he tried to turn pale. “She wouldn’t have the likes of me.” “You can’t tell that ’till you ask her. I happen to think she’d jump at the chance. We were talking the other day, and she said —said —!” “Said what?” “I'm not going to do your courting for you,” laughed the woman as she turned away from the fence. “If I wore a man named Sam Andrews I know where I’d be about 8 o’clock this evening." “Oh Lord, where?” “Right over at the widow’s house, asking her to set the wedding day. That would be me, but of course you haven’t got much grit. Light your pipe and think it over.” The carpenter didn’t go back to his saw and hammer that afternoon. He sat for hours with his feet cocked up and pipe in mouth and went over the case. He had known the widow Martin for years, and had a good opinion of her. He wasn’t in love, but he had read and heard that that sentiment would come along a few days after marriage. Should there be calls and a courtship, or should he transact business on the plan of matrimonial answers given while you wait?” At sundown he had decided on the latter course. It was to be or not to be. There were three interested parties here.

Mrs. Martin, the widow, party of the first part. ' Mrs. Brown, party of the second part. Sam Andrews, party of the third part. It might seem more than neighborly for the party of the second part to offer her assistance in the emergency recorded. The widow was a harmless sort of flirt, as all widows have a right to be. Mrs. Brown was a married woman, but she liked to flirt a little notwithstanding. ' But for her husband's jealous disposition she might have had more opportunities. To be restrained while the other was free galled and rankled. She had hoped for yeafs that the widow would get married and to a mighty jealous man at that, and thus leave her a clear field, but no such event had happened. Ther& were nineteen chances out of twenty that the party of the third part would get turned down with a prompt “No, sir!” but the flirtatious woman wasn’t missing anything that came her way. Under other conditions* she would have Hold Sam Andrews that he was bow-back-ed and bow-legged and to go and hire out to a side show. At 8 o’clock that evening the widow Martin was considerably surprised to open the door in response to a knock and find the old bachelor on the steps. He was dressed in his Sunday suit. His hair was oiled and his boots greased. He looked pale, ahd he made earnest efforts to swallow HUs Adam's apple, but he finally got seated. The widow wondered wnat errand .had brought him, and as the minuted* passed and he did not explain she asked: “Did you call to see if I had any carpenter work to do?” “Why, no,” was the reply. “No, I didn't call for carpenter work. I called to ask you to marry me!” “Mr. Andrews! ’’ “You see, I want a wife." “I should say you did.” “And I’ll be a good husband to her.” “But—but you see—” ■*Mrs. Martin, I’m a pretty good man.”

She saw that he was very much In earnest, and she thought for a moment before saying: • “Mr. Andrews, I know you to be a steady, hard-working man, and you'd make some woman a good husband, but I’m not the woman. I’ve no thoughts of marrying again.” “But you may change your iflind,” he answered. “It is barely possible.” “And If you do, then —” “We can’t tell what may happen further." “I -may propose,” againsaid Mr. Andrews as he was ready to go. “I hope not.” “And I may keep proposing.” “Good night, Mr. Andrews —good night" ’ , " ■ Next morning bright and early Mrs.' 1 Brown was at the fence to hear the news, and when told by the carpenter that he had been turned down, she gasped and replied: “Sam, the widow was grf ng you a jolly!” : “No.” “But she is. She wants to be run after. She wants to keep you on the hooks. Don’t - you let her fool you. Propose again.” “I* told her I should.” “Good for you! Don’t you let her make a fool of you.” Every day for the next fortnight the party of the second part kept encouragaing the party of the third part, and be began to feel that it was time to propose again. In doing his carpenter work it became necessary for him to go to the woods to cut a stick of timber. It was a tramp of half a mile. It was after dinner that he started out, and while he was tramping about in search of’the right tree he heard a woman’s calls for help. When he traced them to their source his surprise was great. The widow Martin was stuck fast in a quagmire! “Why—how—when—” gasped Sam. “I came out for a walk,” was explained. “I have been stuck here for two houra. I thought help would never come.” “Stuck, eh?” queried the man, as he took a seat on a log. “Mrs Martin, I warned you that I should propose again.” , v “Are you going to make a f6ol of yourself?” she demanded. “This is no time for nonsense. Cut a pole and reach me the end of it.” “There’s other business ahead of that. In the last fortnight I have learned to love you.” “I am a good man, widow—a good man. You couldn’t find a better husband in the state. I want you to think things over. I’m not handsome, but I can help to make a happy home. I’m no swell, but you are no aristocrat yourself. I’m a carpenter working by the day, but you are a humble widow. Think it over. I’ll be back in half an hour.” “Sam Andrews!” “Half an hour!” “But I’m being drawn down.” “Half an hour!” “Sam, don't you know you are acting mighty mean? Here I am, utterly helpless, and you—” “I ask you to marry me. What d’ye say?” “Y-yes,” answered the widow after three long minutes had gone past. It was force of arms—compulsion—extortion and all of £hat, but she stuck to her promise and has never regretted it. (Copyright, by the McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)